Scandal In The Boardroom

by Dani Wade

  Kaitlin had easily agreed. She’d delivered Ginny to the Gilby house and into the care of the staff there. Then she’d followed Ginny’s directions and driven one of the golf carts up the hill to the family cemetery.

  Visiting the graveyard was a surreal experience.

  Isolated and windswept, it was perched on the highest point of the island, at the end of a rocky goat track that was almost more than the cart could navigate. She had stopped at the end of the trail to discover a small, rolling meadow dotted with Harper and Gilby headstones, and some that she guessed were for other island residents, maybe the ships’ crews or staff dating all the way back to the pirates Lyndall and Caldwell.

  Wandering her way through the tall, blowing grass, reading the inscriptions on the headstones, she could almost hear the voices of the past generations.

  Both of the pirates had married, and they’d had several children between them. Kaitlin tried to imagine what it must have been like for Emma Cinder to marry Lyndall Harper in the 1700s. Did her family know he was a pirate when they agreed to let her marry him? Had he kidnapped her, snatched her away from a loving family? Did she love him, and was she happy here in what must have been an unbelievably isolated outpost? The castle wouldn’t have existed, never mind the pool, the golf carts or the indoor plumbing.

  While she read the dates on the old stones, Kaitlin couldn’t help but picture Zach in pirate regalia, sword in his hand, treasure chest at his feet. Had Lyndall been anything like him—stubborn, loyal, protective? Had Emma fallen in love with Lyndall and followed him here? Perhaps against her family’s wishes?

  As she wandered from headstone to headstone, Kaitlin tried to piece together the family histories. Some of the lives were long, while some were tragically short. Clipped messages of love and loss were etched into each stone.

  A mother and an infant had died on the same day in 1857. A tragic number of the children hadn’t even made it to ten years old. There were few names other than Harper and Gilby, leading Kaitlin to speculate the daughters had married and moved off the island.

  Most of the young women who’d married the Harper and Gilby men had given them children, then died as grandmothers and were buried here. In one case, Claudia Harper married Jonathan Gilby. But they didn’t have any children. And that seemed as close as the families came to intermingling.

  Then Kaitlin came to two new headstones—clean, polished, white marble set at the edge of the cemetery. They were Drake and Annabelle Harper. Both had died June 17, 1998. They could only be Zach’s parents.

  Though the roses were for Sadie, Kaitlin placed a white rose on each of Zach’s parents’ graves. Then she lowered herself onto the rough grass, gazing across the tombstones to the faraway ocean, trying to imagine how it would feel to belong in a place like this.

  She turned her memory to the single picture of her mother, and to the sad rooming house where Yvette had ended up. Kaitlin drew up her knees, wrapping her arms around them, telling herself it was all going to be okay. She would nail the perfect renovation for the Harper building. Then she’d find herself a permanent job. She’d stay in New York, and Lindsay would be there with her.

  She’d finally build herself a home, and things would be better than ever. Starting right now. She might not have roots. But she had prospects. She had ideas. And she wasn’t afraid to work hard.

  A raindrop splashed on her hand.

  She blinked, raised her head and glanced over her shoulder to find that billowing, dark storm clouds had moved in behind her, changing the daylight to a kind of funny twilight.

  She reluctantly came to her feet and dusted off the rear end of her shorts, smoothing her white blouse as droplets sprinkled on her hair and her clothes. With one last, longing look at the family cemetery, she made her way back to the electric golf cart at the head of the trail.

  Her clothes damp now, she climbed onto the narrow, vinyl bench seat, pressed her foot down on the brake, turned the key to the on position and pushed on the gas pedal.

  She pushed down harder, then harder still, but nothing happened. The cart didn’t move forward like it should have.

  She rechecked the key, turned it to off then back to on again. Then she went through the entire procedure a second time. Still, nothing happened. She didn’t move.

  Rain was coming down harder now, and the clouds had blocked the last vestige of the blue sky. The wind was picking up, whipping the fat raindrops sideways through the open cart.

  Kaitlin whacked her palm against the steering wheel in frustration. The timing could not have been worse.

  It might be a dead battery, or it might be a malfunction. Either way, she was well and truly stuck. She retrieved her cell phone, speed dialing Lindsay’s number.

  The call went immediately to voice mail.

  Kaitlin left a message, hoping Lindsay wasn’t holed up somewhere in Dylan’s arms.

  Okay, so she really didn’t hope that. If Lindsay truly wanted to fulfill her pirate fantasy, then Kaitlin hoped that was exactly where she was. But she hoped it wasn’t a long fantasy. And she truly wished she’d jotted down Zach’s cell phone number when they’d joked about it this morning. She might not be lost in his castle, but she could certainly use his help.

  She glanced around the wind-and rain-swept meadow, the tombstones jutting shadows in the gloom. She told herself there were still a couple of hours until dark, so there was plenty time for Lindsay to get her message. And how long could a person possibly frolic in bed with a pirate?

  Okay. Bad question.

  Thunder rumbled above Kaitlin, and a burst of wind gusted sideways, splattering the raindrops against her face.

  Then again, maybe Ginny would wake up from her nap and tell them Kaitlin had gone to the cemetery. Assuming Ginny remembered that Kaitlin had gone to the cemetery. Would Ginny recall that?

  Kaitlin peered once again at the tombstones on the horizon. She wasn’t wild about sitting here in a graveyard in the middle of a thunderstorm. Not that she was afraid of ghosts. And if any of Zach’s ancestors were ghosts, she had a feeling they’d be friendly. Still, there was a horror-movie aspect to the situation that made her jumpy.

  The rain beat down harder, gusting in from all sides, and soaking everything inside the cart. Her shorts grew wet. Her bare legs became streaked with rivulets of water through the dust from the meadow. And her socks and running shoes were soaking up raindrops at an alarming rate.

  She rubbed the goose bumps on her bare arms, wishing she’d put on something more than a sleeveless blouse. Too bad she hadn’t tossed a sweater in the backseat.

  Lightning flashed directly above her, and a clap of thunder rumbled ominously through the dark sky. It occurred to her that the golf cart was made of metal, and that she was sitting on the highest point on the island.

  She wasn’t exactly a Boy Scout, but she did know that that particular combination could be dangerous. Fine, she’d walk already.

  There was still plenty of light to see the trail. It was all downhill, and it couldn’t be more than forty-five minutes, an hour tops, to get back to Dylan’s house.

  “What do you mean, she’s not here?” Zach studied a disheveled Dylan, then Lindsay. He didn’t need to know what they’d been doing. Though it was completely obvious to anyone what they’d been doing. “Where would she be?” he demanded.

  He’d checked the rose garden over an hour ago. He’d also combed through the entire castle, including the attic rooms and the staff quarters. And he’d just confirmed that Aunt Ginny was napping in her room. So the two of them weren’t together.

  “Maybe she went to the beach?” Lindsay ventured, ineffectually smoothing her messy hair.

  “When was the last time you saw her?” asked Zach.

  Dylan and Lindsay exchanged guilty looks.

  “Never mind.” What they’d been doing for the past three hours was none of his business. And they certainly weren’t Kaitlin’s babysitters.

  “She can’t be far,” Dylan said. “We
’re on an island.”

  Zach agreed. There were only so many places she could be without having flown away on a chopper or taken a boat. And she didn’t do either of those things.

  There was the chance that she’d fallen off a cliff.

  He instantly shut that thought down. Kaitlin wasn’t foolish. He was sure she was fine. He watched the rain pounding against the dark window. It seemed unlikely she’d stay outside in this. So maybe she was already back at the castle. He could call—

  Wait a minute.

  “You’ve got her cell number,” he said to Lindsay.

  “Right.” Lindsay reached for her pockets. Then she glanced around, looking puzzled.

  After a few seconds, Dylan stepped in. “I’ll check the pool house.”

  Zach shook his head in disgust. He did not want to know the details of their tryst. He pulled out his own phone. “Just tell me her number.”

  Lindsay rattled it off, and Zach programmed it into his phone then dialed.

  It rang several times before Kaitlin came on the line. “Hello?” Her voice was shaky, and the wind was obviously blowing across the mouthpiece.

  She was still out in the storm.

  “You okay?” he found himself shouting, telling himself not to worry.

  “Zach?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Uh…”

  “Kaitlin?” Not worrying was going to be a whole lot easier once he figured out what was going on.

  “I think I’m about halfway down the cemetery trail,” she said.

  “You’re driving in this?” What was the matter with her?

  “Not driving, I’m walking.”

  “What?” He couldn’t help the shock in his exclamation.

  “I think the cart’s battery died,” she explained.

  Okay. That made sense. “Are you okay?”

  “Mostly. Yeah, I think so. I fell.”

  Zach immediately headed for the garage. “I’m on my way.”

  Dylan and Lindsay came at his heels.

  “Thanks,” said Kaitlin, relief obvious in her voice.

  “What were you doing up there?” he couldn’t help but ask.

  “Where is she?” Lindsay blustered, but Zach ignored the question, keeping his focus on Kaitlin.

  “The roses,” said Kaitlin, sounding breathless. “Ginny asked me to put the roses on Sadie’s grave.”

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt badly?” Adrenaline was humming through his system, heart rate automatically increasing as he moved into action.

  The wind howled across the phone.

  “Kaitlin?”

  “I might be bleeding a little.”

  Zach’s heart sank.

  “I tripped,” she continued. “I’m pretty wet, and it’s dark. I can’t exactly see, but my leg stings.”

  Zach hit the garage door button, while Dylan pulled the cover off a golf cart.

  “I want you to stop walking,” Zach instructed. “Wherever you are, stay put and wait for me. What can you see?”

  “Trees.” Was there a trace of laughter in her voice?

  “How far do you think you’ve come?” He tried to zero in. “Is the trail rocky or dirt?”

  “It’s mud now.”

  “Good.” That meant she was past the halfway point. “You want me to stay on the line with you?” he asked as he climbed onto the cart.

  “I should save my battery.”

  “Makes sense. Give me ten minutes.”

  “I’ll be right here.”

  Zach signed off and turned on the cart.

  “Where is she?” Lindsay repeated.

  “She was at the cemetery. Cart battery died. She’s walking back.”

  Lindsay asked something else, but Zach was already pulling out of the garage, zipping past the helipad and turning up the mountain road. The mud was slick on the road, and the rain gusted in from all sides.

  He knew he shouldn’t worry. She was fine. She’d be wet and cold, but they could fix those problems in no time. But he’d feel a whole lot better once she was safe in his—

  He stopped himself.

  In his arms?

  What the hell did that mean?

  Safe inside was what he’d meant. Obviously. He wanted her warm and dry, just like he’d want any other human being inside and warm and dry on a night like this.

  Still, it was a long ten minutes before his headlights found her.

  She was soaked to the skin. Her legs were splattered in mud, her hair was dripping and her white blouse was plastered to her body.

  As the cart came to a skidding stop, he could see she was shivering. He wished he’d thought to bring a blanket to wrap around her for the ride home.

  Before he could jump out to help her, she climbed gingerly into the cart. So instead, he stripped off his shirt, draping it around her wet shoulders and tugging it closed at the front.

  “Thanks,” she breathed, settling on the seat next to him, wrapping her arms around her body.

  He grabbed a flashlight from its holder behind the seat and shone it on her bare legs. “Where are you hurt?” He inspected methodically up and down.

  She turned her ankle, and he saw a gash on the inside of her calf, blood mixing with the mud and rainwater.

  “It doesn’t look too bad,” she ventured bravely.

  But Zach’s gut clenched at the sight, knowing it had to be painful. The sooner they got her home and cleaned up, the better.

  He ditched the flashlight, turned the cart on and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his body in an attempt to warm her up.

  “What happened?” he asked as they straightened onto the road, going back downhill.

  “Ginny wanted to put the roses on Sadie’s grave. But she was too tired after the tour of the garden.” Kaitlin paused. “It’s really nice up there at the cemetery.”

  “I guess.” Though the last thing Zach cared about at the moment was the aesthetics of the cemetery.

  Then again, Kaitlin was fine. She was cold, and she needed a bandage. But she was with him now, and she was fine. He reflexively squeezed her shoulders.

  “I’m soaking your shirt,” she told him.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I feel stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid. It was nice of you to help Aunt Ginny.” It really was. It was very nice of her to traipse up to the cemetery to place the roses for Ginny.

  “The other cart’s still back there,” she told him in a worried voice. “It wouldn’t start. Did I do something wrong?”

  “The battery life’s not that long on these things.”

  She shivered. “Will it be hard to go and bring it back?”

  “Not hard at all,” he assured her. “But we’ll wait until the rain stops before we do that.”

  The rain was pounding down harder now, the lightning strikes and thunder claps coming closer together. The cart bounced over ruts and rocks, the illumination from the headlights mostly absorbed by the pitch-dark.

  “Thanks for rescuing me,” she said.

  Something tightened in Zach’s chest, but he ignored the sensation. She was his guest. And there were real dangers on the island. The cliffs for instance. He was relieved that she was safe. It was perfectly natural.

  “It was nothing,” he told her.

  “I was getting scared,” she confessed.

  “Of what?”

  “I’m here on a mysterious pirate island, in a graveyard, in the dark, in a storm.” Her tone went melodramatic. “The whole thing was starting to feel like a horror movie.”

  Zach couldn’t help but smile at her joke. “In that case, I guess I did rescue you.” He maneuvered around a tight curve, picking up her lightening mood. “And you probably owe me. Maybe you could be my slave for life?”

  “Ha!” She knocked her head sideways against his shoulder, her teeth chattering around her words. “Nice try, Harper. First you’d command I stop blackmailing you. Then you’d make me divorce you.
Then you’d fire me and kick me out of your life.”

  Zach didn’t respond. That wasn’t even close to what he’d had in mind.

  Eight

  In Kaitlin’s guest bathroom, the claw-footed bathtub and homemade lilac candles were completely nineteenth century. While the limitless hot water and thick terry robe were pure twenty-first.

  She was finally warm again.

  Zach had brought Kaitlin straight to her room in the castle, where someone had laid out a tray of fruit and scones. He’d called Dylan on the way to let them know everything was fine. Half a scone and a few grapes were all she could manage before climbing directly into the tub, while Zach had disappeared into some other part of the castle.

  Now the second floor was shrouded in silence. One of the staff members had obviously been in her room while she bathed, because the bed was turned down, her nightgown laid out and the heavy, ornate drapes were drawn across the boxed windows. She guessed they expected her to sleep, but Kaitlin was more curious than tired.

  On her initial tour of the castle, she’d discovered the family portrait gallery that ran between the guest bedrooms and the main staircase on the second floor. She’d glanced briefly this morning at the paintings hanging there. But now that she’d read the family tombstones, she couldn’t wait to put faces to the names of Zach’s ancestors.

  She opened her bedroom door a crack, peeping into the high-ceilinged, rectangular room. There was no one around, so she retightened the belt on the thick, white robe and tiptoed barefoot over the richly patterned carpet.

  Chandeliers shone brightly, suspended from the arched, stone ceiling at intervals along the gallery. Smaller lights illuminated individual paintings, beginning with Lyndall Harper himself at one end. He looked maybe forty-five, a jeweled sword hilt in his hand, blade pointing to the floor. She couldn’t help but wonder how many battles the sword had seen. Had he used it to vanquish enemies, maybe kill innocent people before stealing their treasure and taking their ships?

  Of course he had.

  He was a pirate.

  She returned her attention to his face, shocked when she realized how much he looked like Zach. A few years older, a few pounds heavier, and there were a few more scars to his name. But the family resemblance was strong, eerily strong.